3 Degrees Of Separation
by Invicta
Summary: OneShot about Det. Curtis and where she came from and what she left behind...or didn't. Please RnR.
1. 1st Degree

I have no idea where this came from but it wouldn't go away. It's just a little insight into where Det. Curtis came from and maybe where she went...

NB: I hope the analogy worked.

Three Degrees of Separation 1st Degree 

I looked up as she came back from the bar, she looked stunning and I couldn't believe I'd tried to talk her out of the trip. As she set my drink down and took a seat across from me at the table, she had a strange look on her face; I'd seen that look before - it was the same look she gave me just before she'd announced her mother had invited us for Thanksgiving. I wasn't thrilled, especially when she started swirling her Scotch. We'd had a great couple of weeks in Hawaii, I'd never seen her laugh so much, mostly at my pathetic attempts to surf; it was a great way to celebrate the end of university life. That's why 'the look' was bothering me, it didn't seem right, there was no bad news on its way because we were about to start our lives together.

"I got a place in the academy."

Oh. There it was. No nine-to-five lab job, a place at the police academy. That's not so bad, I can understand that; her mother is on the force and she's got some kind of fight in her. "I honestly didn't think a lab could hold you."

"Its not what we talked about...what we planned."

"No. But I think we've got some room for manoeuvre." I smiled, but I think she could see I wasn't sure about it; she knew how to read me – even through the redness and swelling of my sunburn. I didn't have the right to throw my toys out of the pram because I was going to Quantico in a few days to start my FBI training. "When do you start?"

"I'm catching a flight later this evening."

Hello. Did I miss something? She was staring at her glass and tracing patterns in the condensation. She couldn't look at me, I realised then that there was more to it, something she couldn't – or didn't want to – tell me. Two years together at UCLA and a lifetime of plans, and I get dropped for a badge. I didn't need to ask why, but I was curious and so I looked down and fiddled with the napkin on the table. "Oh?"

"It was the first flight to Las Vegas I could get. Mom squared the papers today."

My head snapped up but she was gone.


	2. 2nd Degree

2nd Degree 

"How did he do that?!"

I was seething. We had a solid case to nail that...piece of work for the full whack. I couldn't believe they let him plead out on second degree murder. Next time I saw that DA I was going to send him into next week - compliments of my right hook.

"Ease up, Detective. At least he's in jail and off the streets."

I gave an undignified snort as I slumped into my chair, I would have cupped my chin in my hands but the nurse had bandaged them to remind me they were hurting. I stared at them for a moment, I'm not sure if I'm more upset that I ended up in the back of an ambulance, lost a kid or had the DA screw me over. I rummaged around for the painkillers the hospital gave me, which was harder than it seemed when you couldn't use you're fingers.

"_Hang on!!!" I grabbed the cable as it whipped across the roof, the first few feet burned through my palms and I hit the deck to stop it taking me over the edge too._

"_I'm gonna fall!"_

_I was not going to let him kill again. I'd been to a murder scene that morning of a young woman who got herself caught up in some nasty business. Now I was hanging on to a sixteen year old kid at the end of a cable after a raging psychopath had dangled him off a roof. I had to try and pull him up, 'Protect and Serve' and all that, I looked at where my hands were clamped on the cable and slowly twisted it around one wrist as I let go with the other hand. It hurt. I could feel blisters forming on my palms and I pulled at the cable; I blinked as sweat started stinging my eyes. My shoulders hit the concrete as the tension suddenly disappeared from the cable. I knew what had happened._

I'd closed my eyes without realising and blinked them open when the phone on my desk rudely started ringing for my attention. "Special Agent McGuire, LA Bureau."

"How are your hands?"

I pulled the receiver away from my ear and stared at it like it'd just killed killed my favourite puppy, it wasn't the voice I was expecting to hear on the other end. "Blisters, some swelling. Same colour red as your dad when he came home early..."

I heard her laugh. "Sounds like you're going to make a full recovery...I'm glad."

I sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly, it'd been a while; she called to see how I was. "How did you...?"

"I called earlier to ask for some help on a ballistics analysis...I'm...uh...back in the lab. I'm sorry to hear what happened...glad you're okay, Dex."

I opened my mouth to reply but she'd hung up.


	3. 3rd Degree

3rd Degree 

The CSI looked up from the burnt body as he heard me approaching. "What do you think Agent McGuire? One of your serial's?"

I crouched down to get a better view of the pattern on the man's chest, it was strange how quickly I'd become numb to the smell. The eschar was present – hard, leathery dead tissue that comes after full skin thickness burns - it definitely fit the MO of three similar killings in LA, which was why I'd been sent to Vegas in the first place. "Looks like our boy."

He wasn't looking at me any more, his eyes were fixed over my shoulder at something. I looked behind me as he waved and he had the good grace to blush when I turned back as the recipient made their way over. "That's the lead detective on the case...we're, uh, y'know..."

"Dating?"

He grinned. "Yeah, something like that."

He stood up to introduce us but I beat him to it: "Hello, Sofia."


End file.
